Separation. James Axler

      Chapter Four

      “No choice, I guess…We’ll have to let them take us,” Ryan said with weary resignation, dropping his panga.

      The other companions acknowledged that, moving away from Mildred slowly. J.B. dropped his Tekna, but Jak was able to palm his knives into the hidden recesses of his camou jacket, so that he kept himself well-armed. He did, however, lose a knife as the one given to Krysty was taken from her by the opposing force as they moved in, as was Dean’s bowie. The warrior who took Krysty’s knife also dashed the syringe from her hand, stamping on it so that the adrenaline leaked uselessly into the earth.

      “That was a really stupe thing to do,” Krysty said with deceptive calm, straining to keep her temper. “I only wanted to help Mildred.”

      “So the sister’s name is Mildred…unusual,” the warrior leader said with a raised eyebrow. “As to your other point, truly it is as the winds that blow the clouds before the storm. They seek to deceive and it is only the harsh experience of time that teaches otherwise.”

      “Please yourself, but wrapping it up in fancy talk isn’t going to change the fact that she’s been unconscious for some time and she needs help,” Krysty hissed vehemently.

      “Indeed, and you were seeking to aid her purely from the milk of kindness that runs like that of the dark fruits during the summers. It is unknown for those of your kind to help a brother or a sister. The reverse, if the texts of history are to be believed. Your purpose is swathed in mystery like the darkness that enfolds us now. But that is of no matter.” He gestured with the H&K that he held across his chest, barrel down but with flexing biceps revealing a readiness to raise and fire. He continued. “Now we go. You will carry the sister between you. That will keep your hands occupied and accord her the respect she deserves.”

      Looking around at the warriors, all of whom had blasters poised, and taking stock of their lack of weapons and the depleted physical condition in which at least half the group found themselves in, Ryan saw no reason to revise his original opinion.

      “Let’s do it,” he said simply. “We’re in no state to take them on, and at least Mildred might get some kind of medical attention.”

      “But—” Krysty began before casting her eye at the surrounding group of dark-skinned warriors. “Yeah, mebbe you’re right. We can sort this out later,” she said finally.

      Under the direction of the warrior leader, the companions made a makeshift stretcher from their outer clothing and Mildred’s discarded jacket. It served a dual purpose: not only did they have something on which to carry the still-unconscious woman, but the lack of covering in the chill night left them shivering and cold to the bone. Now they were in even less of a condition to offer resistance.

      The warrior leader nodded his approval at their efforts, eyeing Jak in a curious manner. As the companions moved Mildred onto the stretcher, he reached out to stop the albino.

      “Wait, my friend. Tell me, why do you allow yourself to be a part of these people—you have difference and should not allow them to rule you.”

      Jak flashed him a red-eyed glare that bespoke of a wish to do far more than just reply verbally, whilst being all the while aware that he could not endanger his comrades by so doing.

      “No one rules me—they’re friends.” He spit. “All of them,” he added significantly.

      The warrior leader shrugged. “Truly, we live in interesting times when such things can occur. The lamb and the lion lay down together, it can only result in bloodshed like the seas that surround us. A perplexing problem, one I gladly leave to others. My only concern is to see that the sister Mildred is attended to without further delay. Now move,” he added, gesturing with the H&K.

      Jak returned to his comrades and they lifted Mildred. With an indication from the leader, they followed part of the warrior pack into the darkness of the woods, keeping close to see where their captors led them. The remainder of the pack followed. The companions knew that any attempt to break into the cover of the woods would be futile. Their blasters—useless though they were at that moment—were in the custody of the opposition. Any attempt to use the darkened woods as cover would mean leaving Mildred behind. Added to this, half of their group was in no state to make a break and the warriors knew the woodlands inside out where the companions would be moving blind. The familiarity of the warriors with the terrain was born out by the fact that the group in front of them moved through the densely packed terrain with a surefootedness that made it hard for the companions, made clumsy by the unconscious Mildred strung between them, to even follow, let alone think about escape. Besides which, they knew that the warriors had their blasters ready to punish any deviation from the route set by those in front.

      The trek through the woods seemed to take forever. There was no light by which to see the path or to take landmarks by which to judge the passing of time and distance. There was only the painful stumble through the pitch-black to a destination that was, as yet, unknown to them. For Ryan and J.B. the trip was made less painful thanks to the narcotic effects of the painkillers they had taken earlier, yet still the long journey would be marked by a gradual return of the pain that cursed them earlier. And for Doc, the disorientation of such a journey in the darkness wasn’t helping him to retain the delicate hold on reality that he had attained since recovering consciousness.

      In truth, it was only Dean, Jak and Krysty who were able to try to assess what was occurring around them and to try to work out where they were being taken. They had neither pain nor disorientation to fog their ability to analyze the situation. This much was clear—they had to be traveling into the island, as they had walked a greater distance from the clearing than that which they had traversed from the shore to reach their campsite. And, despite the amount of time it seemed to take, they hadn’t covered that great a distance. From their estimates earlier in the day, they knew that the island was no more than a few square miles in total. So it seemed that they weren’t traveling straight, which course may have been dictated by the growth of the woodland.

      It had also been an uneventful march, which suggested that the wildlife to which the warrior leader had alluded was either in another part of the island or knew well enough by instinct to avoid the group of warriors as it made its way through the terrain.

      “Is that light ahead, or is it dawn?” Krysty asked softly as a glow of illumination appeared ahead of them.

      “Ville,” Jak replied. “Hear noises…most probably asleep, but a few up. Mebbe sec.”

      The light grew as the woodland thinned out and they found themselves walking past a clearing where fenced-in livestock watched them idly. Ahead they could see a collection of adobe buildings, immaculately maintained and freshly whitewashed, some decorated with paintings and others left bare. All were illuminated by oil lanterns that hung on the sides of the buildings and were strung across the beaten earth paths that ran between the buildings.

      It was difficult to judge how large the ville could be, only that it was a thriving area that was kept hygienically and with a sense of pride in the surroundings. As the companions were led through the streets, sec guards acknowledged the passing patrol and its captives in silence, as though unwilling to disturb the sleeping inhabitants of the adobe buildings. They were eventually stopped in front of a building that was smaller than many of the others. It had barred metal windows where the others were open or covered with wooden shutters or cloth curtaining.

      One of the warriors—obviously a sec patrol, or this ville’s equivalent—opened the door, and from the dim illumination of the light on the outside of the building, they could see that the interior consisted of a beaten-earth floor with no furniture. There was a latrine dug into one corner.

      “I fear it will not be as luxurious as the fruits of exploitation with which your people have always surrounded themselves, and it will be cramped—we do not usually have as many offenders as yourself at one time—but it will suffice. You will leave the sister and enter, if you please.”

      The words were polite, but the